all fall down
by keem
Summary: UPDATED 05-05. Ulquiorra x Orihime. "I've cared for you, tended to you, ensured that your every physical need was met. And yet your allegiance continues to waver. Why?" Ongoing. R&R.
1. get busy living, or get busy dying

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach. Quote belongs to e.e cummings.

--

_Once we believe in ourselves, we can risk curiosity, wonder, spontaneous delight, or any experience that reveals the human spirit. _

--

Their arrival in Hueco Mundo creates a disturbance - corrupts the already twisted space that they have forged together.

"I'm coming in."

The only audible sound is the squeaking of the trolley's wheels behind him; Ulquiorra's feet themselves do not make a sound. Orihime, who is usually so compliant - so malleable, so easy to _mold_ - eyes him warily. The sight of her trepidation unsettles Ulquiorra.

_This is new._

"It seems you've noticed," he says coolly, drawing nearer to her. "It appears that idiot Nnoitra got impatient, despite the fact that he was given the order to wait in his palace..." He pauses, waits for this all to sink in. He expects Orihime's expression to falter, to wilt beneath his gaze as it always does. But instead she blooms, growing defiant at the harshness of his words.

"Sado-kun is _not_ dead."

Someone else may have shrugged in a show of indifference, having been caught in a lie. But Ulquiorra will not give her a clear indication either way. He has always been a passive participant in situations such as these.

"He's _not_," she whispers again, fiercely.

Ulquiorra's deadpan expression does not falter. "Dinner time," he says instead, hands in his pockets. "Eat."

She turns away from the tea the servant is pouring for her. "I don't need it," she says, purposely being difficult. Ulquiorra can no longer ignore her insubordination; he has an obligation to Aizen to ensure the younger woman's well-being.

"It is your duty to preserve your life until Aizen-sama calls for you," he reminds her coldly. "So eat." Orihime now seems perfectly intent to ignore him entirely, and Ulquiorra very nearly sighs.

"Shall I implement force?" He asks. "Or do you want me to tie you down and give it to you your nutrition intravenously?"

"Sado-kun," she murmurs, her back still facing him - still giving him the cold shoulder. "Is not dead..."

_What do you want from me, woman?_

"Such persistence," he says dismissively. "Dead or alive, either way will do." Her shoulders stiffen, and he knows immediately that he's touched a nerve, that he's irritated those sensitive human emotions. "What would you have me say?" He continues blandly, watching as those tiny, delicate hands curl into fists at her sides. "'Don't worry, I'm sure he's still alive?'" He shakes his head slowly in disbelief. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm not here to comfort you."

Orihime, at last, turns. Her eyebrows are knitted together, her expression downcast. The sight of it moves him - as much as Ulquiorra can be moved, that is - and his own features soften somewhat, neutralize back into indifference. "I don't understand," he says finally, more delicately. "Why are you so fixated on life and death?"

Orihime doesn't have an answer to that; or maybe she _does_, but she understands the pointlessness of trying to convey it to him: Ulquiorra is a hollow, after all, no matter how you spin it. There are some things he will never be able to understand. Topics such as these just don't hit home with him the way that they do with Orihime: they are frivolities, trifle matters he doesn't see worth being concerned with.

"They should have seen this coming."

Orihime bristles at the comment. "Stop it..." she says, weakly.

"If they couldn't see it coming," he persists, hoping to convey to her _his_ meaning, "then the fault lies in their own foolishness. Laughing them off as a group of idiots would be sufficient." He pauses, those brilliant green optics searching her, trying to find the hidden answer. "Why can't you do that?"

_Why do you need anyone else other than me?_

"If it were me," Ulquiorra says, and Orihime shakes her head incredulously. "If it were me and my friends had entered Hueco Mundo without first gauging their strength, I would be infuriated by their stupidity."

It ends up happening so abruptly - so spontaneously - that Ulquiorra can not foresee the intent and take preventative measures to stop it. Orihime races forward, brings back her hand and slaps him right across the face. The force of the blow - and the shock behind it - actually causes Ulquiorra to turn his head.

Orihime's enormous chest is heaving from the effort of her movement. Ulquiorra is much stronger, and much sturdier, than she: his face remains pale and unblemished, despite the ferocity behind her attack. He remains unfazed, except perhaps the fact that inwardly, he's confused. She has never reacted violently to him: truly, he would have never considered her capable of it.

_I can't believe it._

He cocks his head, looks her head-on. The sight of her tears disgusts him: it offends his very being. It is an insult to everything he has done for her.

_I've cared for you, tended to you, taken care of your every physical need. And yet your allegiance continues to waver. Why?_

A cold fury consumes Ulquiorra. It is because of _them_. "I will return in one hour," he says, no longer able to look her in the eyes. He pivots on one heel and marches toward the exit, leaving Orihime swathed in the long, imposing figure of his shadow as he goes. "If you have not eaten by then," he says, pausing in the doorway and turning back to gaze over his shoulder at her, "I will bind you and force you to eat. You can count on that."

Orihime's lower lip trembles, her hands clasped before her. Ulquiorra merely turns, coattails swirling, as he sets off to find Kurosaki.

--

"It's been a while, shinigami."

It doesn't take him long to locate the source of Orihime's anxiety: Ichigo Kurosaki's spiritual pressure is hardly subtle, ricocheting off of the dimensional walls of Hueco Mundo like a siren's call, guiding Ulquiorra straight to him. As he makes his way down the steps, his calculating gaze sweeps over the fiery-haired warrior's leanly muscled form. He wonders vaguely it is that Orihime sees in him: to Ulquiorra, the boy is hardly extraordinary in any sense, except for the deafening roar of reiatsu. Even still, it is quite evident that Kurosaki is all brawn, and no brains: he lacks finesse, _control._ Ulquiorra is not impressed by him in the slightest, although he does at last acknowledge him as a threat, although a threat of a very different kind.

_Your presence is tainting the woman's stay here, Kurosaki. And for that, you deserve to be destroyed._

"Rukia Kuchiki is dead," Ulquiorra says flatly. Kurosaki's eyes immediately widen in surprise, which is the desired effect, but soon thereafter they narrow in suspicion.

But in the end Ichigo Kurosaki appears to be equally unimpressed with Ulquiorra. He seems to think that Ulquiorra is lying to him, and will eventually turn away from the Cuatro Espada.

_Dangerous, Kurosaki. Don't you know who I am?_

Suddenly it becomes paramount to Ulquiorra that the teenager acknowledge him. "Stubborn, aren't we?" Ulquiorra asks quietly. "Is it alright to leave first before killing me?"

_I could strike you down where you stand. _

"I have no reason to fight you," Kurosaki says, still not bothering to turn around. His imprudence invokes quiet anger on Ulquiorra's behalf. "You are an enemy, but you have yet to hurt my friends."

_I'll make you bleed for your sins._

"I see," Ulquiorra says, his emerald eyes boring into the younger man's back. "What if I told you that I was the one who brought Orihime Inoue to Hueco Mundo?"

_Fight me, Kurosaki._

Kurosaki's response is immediately gratifying: Ulquiorra lifts his wrist lazily to deflect Zangetsu as it comes screaming down.

"So Orihime didn't come to Hueco Mundo of her own free will…!"

_How unnecessarily theatrical, _Ulquiorra thinks, as he continues to bait the other man. For the first time in a while, he actually _wants_ to fight, to show off his prowess. He wants to crush Ichigo Kurosaki, crush the little boy like the insignificant vermin that he is.

"Sorry though, I'm in a hurry," Kurosaki sneers eventually, after they break apart. "So let's go all out!"

_This is her great defender? _Ulquiorra thinks to himself as Kurosaki calls out his bankai. _He's nothing but trash._

It isn't until the black swirling galaxy collides with him that Ulquiorra thinks that perhaps he's badly miscalculated.

--

Ulquiorra ends up walking away from the encounter completely unscathed, although his clothes have taken a severe beating. The shredded garments hang from his slender form, a reminder that Ulquiorra has indeed underestimated Kurosaki's own potential, but not by much. His opponent, it seems, did have a formidable amount of power, but one that fluctuated wildly, unable to be properly harnessed. Ichigo's inability to control his own chaotic spiritual pressure ends up being his undoing: he now lies, slain, at Ulquiorra's feat, pierced neatly through the chest.

Killing him does not end up being as nearly as satisfying as Ulquiorra had hoped it would be. He will eventually walk away from the lifeless body of Orihime's beloved, feeling mildly disappointed.

--

He winds up being a little later than he said he would be; the encounter with Kurosaki had drawn out longer than the Cuatro Espada had intended. By the time he reaches Orihime's room, night has long since fallen in Los Noches, and the halls are dark and barren.

The first thing he notices when he enters his captive's room is that she has obeyed his wishes, and the tray of food provided has been picked clean. He sees Orihime curled into a fetal position on the couch, her front turned away from him. She appears to be sleeping.

As he draws nearer he sees that it is a restless slumber. Her hands, tucked against the mounds of her breasts, twitch restlessly, and her eyes remained squeezed tightly shut, as though trying desperately to ward off nightmares. At the corner of them he sees the remnants of dried tears, and the fact that even in sleep, Orihime cannot free herself from the restraints of her petty emotions softens Ulquiorra's heart somewhat. He leans down and kisses the dark lashes at the creases of her eyes, licks away the salty residue that resides there.

The feel of his tongue upon her causes Orihime to stir. She rolls onto her back and opens her eyes, gazing up into those familiar, narrow pupils. Ulquiorra is leaning over her from the arm of the couch, hunched over so that his dark, inky hair tickles the space between her chin and her clavicle.

"Ulquiorra?" She says, and there is none of that sleepy fondness that Ulquiorra is accustomed to seeing on nights like these. Instead, there is only wariness – and the first vestiges of creeping despair.

"I need to know if you're still angry at me," he says.

"Is Rukia really dead?" She whispers.

Ulquiorra pauses, closes his eyes. "I don't know," he admits, finally. When he opens his eyes again Orihime is searching his face, trying feebly to find any indication of a lie. He isn't lying: he honestly doesn't know.

"Kiss me," he says quietly, huskily. Orihime hesitates, and for a moment Ulquiorra stills, disturbed by her lack of cooperation. She has never denied him like this before, and he thinks angrily of the profound effect that her friends' presence here in Hueco Mundo have had on her. But then there is a beat, and the young woman acquiesces, rolling over and pulling herself up onto her elbows so that her mouth can find his own.

Orihime's kisses are like nothing else in this world or any other. It's over far too quickly for Ulquiorra's liking, but the look of her moist, lightly parted lips inspire deep pangs of lust inside of him. His hands reach for her again, one threading through her heavy auburn locks while the other strokes down between the valley of her breasts. Orihime frowns as he does this, at last taking in the unruly state of him.

"What happened to your clothes?"

Ulquiorra does not answer, instead leaning forward so that his mouth can find the hollow of her throat. Orihime shies away before his tongue can lave the shell of her delicate ear. She is eyeing the dried blood on Ulquiorra's right hand in horror. She suddenly knows that he's done something terrible, can smell the death of one of her friends on him.

"Oh, God," she whispers, recoiling away from him. When Ulquiorra tries to pursue her, she reaches out, pushes off of his chest with both hands and scuttles backwards until her back is pressed up against the opposite end of the couch. "Oh God," she moans in despair, "Ulquiorra, what have you done?"

--

**A/N: **I guess we're way overdue for a multi-chaptered Ulquihime from keem, eh? You knew it was bound to happy _eventually_.

From what I've seen of other authors, they tend to take these two characters and show the progression of their relationship through a series of events. I've decided to do something a little different: I've started at the pinnacle of their relationship, and am simultaneously moving forward and backwards. Their previous history will be shown in a series of flashbacks, while the active storyline shows us the regression of their current relationship. I like turmoil, and I definitely like strife: not to say that this won't end _happily_, because you never know with me.

This also has the potential of turning into an M rating, because let's face it: I'm a pervert and I've been dying to write something a little more explicit for these two ever since I became interested in the pairing. I don't have a fully fleshed out story in my mind: just bits and pieces that I have in my mind, and that I intend to build around.

Hopefully you've all enjoyed so far :D Please don't hesitate to review if I've successfully piqued your interest! I'll see you next chapter.


	2. sad sweetheart of the rodeo

There was a time when things weren't so complicated. It was, after all, Orihime who first approached Ulquiorra, and not the other way around.

--

"_Ulquiorra-san," she says when he enters._

"_Ulquiorra," he corrects her, like he always does. "It's obvious that Aizen-sama regards you in high esteem. Honorifics would be inappropriate here."_

"_But _you _think I'm trash, don't you?" She asks, smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "You called me garbage when you first met me, do you remember?"_

_Of course Ulquiorra does. He is a highly sentient Hollow, and his Eye records everything—compresses it and stores it neatly away for easy accessibility. He can remember their first encounter in vivid detail—everything she had said, everything he had said in return; he can remember the feel of the breeze playing across his skin, the sound of rustling leaves overhead, the open expanse of clear blue above him-- _

But _you_ think I'm trash, don't you?

_But Ulquiorra isn't so sure that he really _does_. The silence they lapse into this time is a very different kind than his captive is usually accustomed to. As Ulquiorra deliberates, she watches him inquisitively._

"_Don't you?"_

_She's grasping for something here, Ulquiorra knows, although he's not sure what. There's a shimmer of something unfamiliar in her eyes._

"_Your abilities have proved to be impressive," he says finally, after careful consideration. "I'm not sure 'trash' would be an apt description, anymore."_

_She breaks out in a beatific smile. Ulquiorra isn't sure what she's so happy about: his intention was not to compliment her here, but to merely state the truth._

"_Thanks, Ulquiorra."_

_Ulquiorra doesn't know why she's thanking him. He just wishes she would stop smiling at him like that._

--

"Ulquiorra!"

"Perhaps you should lie down," Ulquiorra tells her as he reaches out, intending to ease her gently onto her back. "You've been losing weight ever since you found out that your comrades had infiltrated Hueco Mundo." He refuses to refer to them as her 'friends'—they're nothing but trash, unworthy of the buxom girl's affection. "You should not allow yourself to get so worked up, in your already weakened state."

But Orihime won't let him touch her. She shies away from his hand before jumping off of the couch entirely, throwing her arms out before her as though it could actually ward Ulquiorra off. "Who did you hurt? It wasn't Sado-kun… or Kuchiki-san…" Her eyebrows knit together, and Ulquiorra knows instinctively that she's reaching out, trying to grasp the spirit strands of her friends'. Her cheeks grow sickly and sallow as the horror sinks in. She whirls upon him in a fury.

"What did you do to Kurosaki-kun?"

"Their sudden appearance here has clearly been strenuous on your health," Ulquiorra responds evenly, ignoring the question at hand. "Perhaps their extermination shall prove beneficial. You have to cut the cancerous parts away in order for the body to survive, as they say."

Orihime shakes her head in disbelief. She does not attempt to escape him this time when he comes forward, but she doesn't look him in the eye, either. She gazes resolutely at the floor, even when Ulquiorra takes her by the chin and tilts it back. Ulquiorra is so close that he can see every pore clearly.

"You should be thanking me," he murmurs quietly. "Someone like Grimmjow would not have been as merciful as I was."

"You thought that you were being _merciful_?" Orihime demands suddenly, jerking free from his grasp. Ulquiorra blinks slowly, hand remaining momentarily suspended in the air. Then he pockets it. "What, you think that killing him was doing me a favor?"

He has never seen her look so disgusted before, and this is only the second time he's been the subjected to her hostility.

_Vermin, all of them. If not for their futile intervention, you could have been happy here. _

Tears cling to her dark lashes, but stubbornly, she refuses to let them fall. Ulquiorra's hand itches for the hilt of his blade, but likewise, he refuses to give into the temptation.

_Perhaps I should have let the shinigami suffer more. A fair price to pay, in exchange for her misery._

"Such pointless mourning," he says, nodding the tears that she's obviously fighting back. "Perhaps after this is all over, you'll finally come to your senses."

Orihime merely shakes her head mutely, and those tears she's been so desperately trying to contain spill forth. He watches as they cascade gently down her cheeks, and thinks of the emerald tracks that mar his own alabaster features.

_We match._

"Go away, Ulquiorra," Orihime says, turning around so that her back is facing him. "I don't want to speak to you anymore."

Ulquiorra has never been good at assuaging petty human emotions—he's never had a _need _to before now. Knowing this, he simply does as she asks and goes.

--

"_I have a question."_

_Ulquiorra doesn't say anything. He probably has an answer, but that does not necessarily mean he will deign to give her it. _

"_What did Aizen do to get the arrancar to follow him? Did he bribe them?"_

"_The majority of those produced by the hougyoku merely submitted beneath the force of Aizen-sama's enormous spiritual pressure. Those destined to eventually become Espada were… persuaded, in a manner of speaking, I suppose you could say."_

"_And what did he do to persuade them?"_

_Ulquiorra is not exactly sure that he approves of where this conversation is going; it requires entirely too much effort in answering on his behalf. At the same time, he can see no harm in further indulging her, and so he decides to entertain her a little longer. "With promises of prestige and power, mostly."_

"_And you?"_

_Orihime has turned around from her usual perch at the window. Her grey eyes are interested, bright. She is more alive now, in this moment, than he has ever remembered her being since her stint in captivity._

"_And me?" he echoes faintly._

"_Well," she bites her lip. "You don't seem the type to be swayed by offers of… like you said, 'prestige' and 'power.' So what did he offer_ you_?"_

_He pauses. He has never offered personal information like this before. "I wanted… a heart."_

_Orihime is clearly taken aback by his response. "A h-heart?" She squeaks, surprised. Ulquiorra does not reiterate himself: not because he's embarrassed, but because he has no _need_ to. It's obvious that she has heard him correctly._

"_Just like the Wizard of Oz…" he hears her murmur. He has no idea what she's talking about: he knows next to nothing about her world's popular culture, and has no immediate desire to educate himself on the matter._

"_That's… really something, Ulquiorra," she says awkwardly, but she's smiling. "That's… nice."_

_It has never occurred to Ulquiorra before that Orihime might be lonely, but he understands now. She slowly advances upon him, and the raven-haired arrancar remains rooted, still._

_He's scarcely taller than her, but tall enough that she has to tilt her head back to look at him. Orihime swallows, and Ulquiorra watches blandly as she hesitates before reaching out. She tentatively runs her fingers down one side of his face, smiling nervously._

"_You're cold," she tells him. "But not as cold as I had imagined you'd be."_

_She stands up on the tip of her toes. They're about even in height now. Orihime licks her lips experimentally, wetting them. "There's… there' something I want to do," she says in a voice barely above a whisper, right before she leans in and kisses him._

_It's a chaste kiss, and it lasts no more than a second or two. Ulquiorra does not blink; he does not falter, and he certainly does not respond in kind. Yet despite this, the effect of catering to Orihime's whims has a profound effect on her: Orihime's face turns beet-red when she finally pulls away, and tiny beads of perspiration seem to have formed right around her hairline._

"_Have you satisfied your curiosity, woman?" Ulquiorra asks, but there isn't any kind of hostility backing the inquiry. It's just that: a question._

"_Did you… did you know what that was?" She asks him breathlessly, after they break apart._

"_A kiss," Ulquiorra intones, and Orihime seems embarrassed that he is not naive as she initially pegged him for. "I may be an arrancar, but that does not mean I am an uneducated brute. I am well-versed in the topics of sex, woman."_

_Orihime flushes again. "I think you misread my intentions."_

"_Did I?" He asks, and the two of them stare at one another. It is Orihime who has to blink first._

"_I… this isn't how I imagined it would go," she admits after a moment, staring at her feet._

_Ulquiorra takes a step forward. "And how did you imagine it?"_

_Orihime seems to wilt beneath his gaze. "Well, I thought you might be, more… uhm, willing."_

"_Did I refuse you?"_

"_Not exactly, but…"_

"_Then I don't understand."_

_This is the lengthiest exchange they've shared thus far. Ulquiorra's sudden inquisition seems to have caused Orihime's courage to waver; she seems unsure now, flighty. _

"_You want a subservient partner?" Ulquiorra asks. "Shall I be quiet? Would that better suit your purposes?"_

"_Subservient?" Orihime shakes her head violently. "N-no! I just… I just wasn't sure if you… if you wanted it," she finishes quietly, meekly. _

_Ulquiorra merely inclines his head. "Is my wanting to do this really relevant? It is quite evident that I'm consenting for you to proceed with your carnal indulgence; isn't that the important thing?"_

"_Uhm, no, that would make it rape then, I think," Orihime frowns, eyebrows furrowing together. "I don't want you to just… you know…"_

"_I don't think I'm capable of passion, woman," Ulquiorra states blankly._

"_But you _are_ capable of desire," Orihime points out. "You want a heart, don't you? Then you have drives… cravings… specific yearnings. I don't want to simply take advantage of your…" She falters here; it's obvious that she doesn't want to refer to it as 'kindness' but there is no other words to fill in the blink here. "…Hospitality," she finishes lamely. _

"_Humans are so strange," Ulquiorra observes._

"_Just tell me what you want, Ulquiorra!" she bursts out suddenly. Ulquiorra lifts a thin eyebrow as Orihime shifts uncomfortably on the spot._

"_I will admit a certain curiosity," he allows, finally._

_Orihime exhales in relief. Ulquiorra doesn't know why she hangs onto his every word like this: is sex really such a big deal in the human world?_

"_I… I guess we should go over there, then," she says, gesturing awkwardly to the bed in the corner. It's pointlessly large and overly lavish, but Ulquiorra does not question Aizen-sama's motives in picking it out for their captive. Everything here suits a higher purpose, conceals a hidden motive. Perhaps his lord had foreseen this, the day that Orihime crumbled beneath the weight of Stockholm Syndrome, driven by loneliness and desperation._

"_I… I want you to kiss me, Ulquiorra," she says, when they stand beside it. Ulquiorra does as he's told._

_He covers his lips over her own, just the way she had done to him the first time. But this is apparently not enough, this time around: Orihime makes a strange, wanting little sound in the back of her throat before grabbing him by the front of his jacket and steering him roughly against her. She wasn't lying when she said she didn't exactly want a passive participant: she's entirely grabby for that to be true, _forceful_. She presses her lips harder against him, and Ulquiorra can feel the curve of her breasts against his chest, the small mound of her pubic region grinding incessantly into his lower body. Ulquiorra has his eyes open, but Orihime's are closed: this interests him. When she pulls back, panting slightly, he decides to ask her about it._

"_Why do you close your eyes? Is it so that you can pretend I'm someone else?"_

_Orihime's jaw falls open._

"_I'm not Kurosaki," he feels necessary to point out. _

_Orihime's eyes are wistful. "I know you aren't," she says quietly, sitting down on the bed behind them. "I don't want you to be."And she pulls him down on top of her._

--

**A/N:** Rating next chapter will be 'M'. You're welcome. xD

Thanks for everyone who has reviewed so far!


	3. let me devalue what's inside of you

**A/N: **annnnd i finished tonight's chapter just in time to read the latest installment of _bleach_. is anyone else crapping their pants over, i don't know, like every chapter since december? xDD because i know iiiii ammmmm.

thanks to everyone who reviewed so far! :D (and yes, there will be more porn next chapter. :D :D :D)

--

Orihime remains alone in the dark long after Ulquiorra's departure. Beyond the walls of Las Noches, the world is quiet and still, save for the occasional, guttural moan of a unsophisticated, rogue Hollow. Aizen's captive sits perched along the edge of the sofa, her head in her hands, while a few lone strands of ginger hair cling to the sticky tear-tracks that mottle her face.

With Ulquiorra gone, Orihime has become considerably less hysterical. The second time she searches for Ichigo's reiatsu, she locates it – but it's faint, a mere wisp of his former spiritual energy. Ichigo is alive, although barely so; even still, the quiet relief that comes with this knowledge does little to alleviate the despair that shrouds her. Orihime knows without actually seeing them that Ichigo's wounds are severe; if he doesn't find help soon, eventually he really _will_ die, and there's nothing Orihime can do about it.

_Ichigo… why did you…?_

The powerlessness of the situation further impresses upon her with every passing moment, every ticking of her heartbeat; Ichigo is dying somewhere, and all Orihime can do is wait here uselessly.

She suddenly wishes she hadn't sent Ulquiorra away; if he was still here, perhaps she could reason with him, get him to take her where Ichigo is. Although Ulquiorra is by no means a sympathetic or subservient creature, he is by far the most receptive to her whims out of all of the Espada. Maybe if she begged—

Orihime blinks rapidly, trying to fight back a slew of fresh tears.

_Oh, who am I kidding? He's the one who _hurt_ Ichigo. He'll never agree too—_

There is the sound of a lock being turned, and a sliver of light suddenly falls across of Orihime's face as the door to her room creaks slowly open. Foolishly, Orihime's heart surges with hope as she leaps to her feet. Maybe Ulquiorra really _had_ come back to help her—

But the sinister visages that greet her from beyond the threshold to her room belong to two very _different_ arrancar.

"Well, looky here," the one with dark hair coos, mock-sweet. "Our little princess is here alllll alone."

Orihime sways uncertainly on the spot, her hands clasped before her as though in prayer. "Y-you're not Ulquiorra," she says in a hoarse whisper, eyes wide.

"Orihime-chan~!" They chorus together in sing-song voices. "We're gonna have some fun!"

--

_Ulquiorra has takes an almost scientific approach when it comes to indulging Orihime. His captive is shy, but Orihime knows better than to think Ulquiorra will take the initiative here—this experiment is originally _her_ idea, after all, and so she's the one who has to take charge. In the end, she doesn't have the patience to allow herself to be deterred by mere bashfulness; in order to bypass the awkward embarrassment stage entirely, the speed in which her clothes come flying off boggles the mind. Ulquiorra has long since been rolled onto his back, watching blankly as Orihime undresses above him. He can't help but immediately glance down to see her breasts as they come free from the confines of her bra—they are, after all, Orihime's most obvious attributes. Orihime follows his gaze, and this time she can't help but flush._

"_They're hideous, aren't they?" She asks, biting her lower lip. "They're so… big and awkward."_

_Ulquiorra doesn't think they're unseemly at all. Orihime's breasts are heavy and proud, with nipples like rose-buds, pink and set high. Ulquiorra doesn't have an aversion to them in the slightest, although he doesn't regard them with the same reverence that the other Espada do._

How ironic,_ Ulquiorra thinks, as he reaches up and takes both of them into each of his hands. He rubs his thumb over the left nipple experimentally, watching as it gathers and stiffens beneath his touch. _I am probably the most unlikely person to be engaging in such activities with this woman_._

_It's not that Ulquiorra doesn't like Orihime, that he doesn't find her beautiful—quite the contrary, actually. She's—well, she's_ _interesting at the very least, and she's certainly not _un_pleasant to look at. Her face has symmetry, and her skin is soft and warm to the touch. She has luxurious curves, although Ulquiorra probably isn't as appreciative of this as he could be. _

_It's just that Ulquiorra isn't a passionate individual by any stretch of the imagination. He isn't motivated by more primal forces, like lust or desire; the Cuatro Espada has long since transcended the need to give into instinct, whether it be Hollow or Human. It's part of the reason why he's such a good soldier._

_(And why he finds the human heart so _interesting_.)_

_Orihime's chest heaves beneath his roaming hands as she sucks in a breath of fresh air. The thighs that drape over each side of his torso tense slightly, pulling him tighter against her. He can feel the radiating heat of her center, pressed so close against his own. She's no longer looking at him; her eyes are closed. _

_He takes one nipple between two finches and pinches it, just to see what sort of reaction it will invoke. Orihime's immediately furrow together as she emits a tiny whimpering sound. Ulquiorra pauses and listens to her harsh, irregular breathing._

"_Are you all right, woman?"_

"_I-I'm fine," she mumbles, and that faint blush she wears becomes even rosier. "J-just… I…"_

_Evidently Orihime has trouble finding the words to properly convey herself, and so she uses actions in order to help demonstrate instead. She takes his hands, now settled limply around her waist, and brings them up over the flat of her stomach before making them massage her breasts again. When they graze over her erect nipples, she issues a deep, shuddering sigh._

"_It feels nice…"_

_Orihime seems to like it when Ulquiorra is a little more adventurous with his hands; keeping this in mind, he begins to explore her body more fully. Orihime has such an elegant, inviting shape, and her nerve-endings are so_ responsive_; with every ghosting touch of his fingertips, he can feel the prickle of gooseflesh._

"_Use your mouth."_

_Ulquiorra is a little taken aback by the austerity of the command; he has never known Orihime to be so forward. The look she fixes him with is intense, unyielding—and Ulquiorra blinks._

_The severe, unabashed expression on her face wilts slightly upon scrutiny of his own. In her clouded desire, she seems to have mistaken his look as a reprimanding one. But Ulquiorra is merely curious._

"_My mouth?"_

_Orihime pushes a fall of loose hair behind her ear, and nods. "Your mouth," she reaffirms, a little too eagerly. When Ulquiorra lifts a thin eyebrow, she flushes. _

_Ulquiorra uses his elbows to push himself into an upright position so that Orihime is now straddling his lap. His eyes momentarily snake down the path below her navel, to her dewy center. Her desire is so rampant that it has left the front of his pants damp, and the white fabric there clings to his own growing arousal. When he looks up again Orihime is watching him expectantly._

"_Please?"_

_Ulquiorra merely steers her onto her back in reply._

_--_

Orihime lays broken and battered beneath her gloating tormentors.

"Not one peep out of you!" The dark haired one jeers, shaking her head in admonishment. "What do we have to do to make you _scream_, Pet-sama?"

When her heavy boot makes contact with Orihime's side, the ginger-haired girl really does _want_ to scream. The pain is intense—she's pretty sure they've broken some of her ribs.

Struggling is useless here—the girls, although seemingly lithe, are extremely strong. They continue to brutalize Orihime while she lashes back ineffectively. She wants to cry out, but her vocal chords have long since become stuck.

_Ichigo_—

This time one of their feet make contact with the soft flesh of her stomach, and Orihime wheezes desperately as the wind is knocked out of her.

_Ulquiorra—_

She wonders what the solemn-eyed Espada would have to say if he could see what they were doing to her. Would he condemn their actions, or would he secretly approve? Would he say that she deserved it for her insolence?

_No—Ulquiorra would _never_—_

Why does she insist on clinging to such foolishness? When it really comes down to it, she doesn't really _know _Ulquiorra at all, as painful as it is for her to swallow.

_Does anyone_ really _know?_

In the end, he is still one of Aizen's most trusted officers. And although he is by no means aggressive, Ulquiorra definitely couldn't be considered a character of high moral standing_ either_. Who is she to say what he will and won't do? She had been dumb enough to think that he was too passive of a participant to take out Ichigo out himself, and he had gone and surprised Orihime by very nearly killing him.

_Someone—anyone--_

Oblivion, when it comes, is welcome.

--

_Orihime makes desperate little mewling noises as Ulquiorra quickly familiarizes himself with what his captive likes best. He is swift to learn that her neck is sensitive, and her breasts even more so – but it is her musky center that is the most sensitive of all. It is the last thing that Ulquiorra will get to, and when he does, he can't help but pause._

"_What are you waiting for?" Orihime asks him, but the inquiry is more out of desperation than actual annoyance. "I thought you said you were…. uhmm, well-versed on the topic of sex or whatever!"_

_And Ulquiorra _is, _at least to a degree. It's true that he understands the basic mechanics of it, but he's not sure if he's ever _performed _the act before now. His life as a human has long since eroded to dust, and his memories as a sentient Hollow are vague, at best._

_Still, Ulquiorra is not one to hesitate: although he _is_ one to deliberate. He leaves Orihime to squirm impatiently beneath him for several more minutes before he finally leans in, draws his tongue along the wet folds._

_Her reaction is instantaneous—Orihime's whole body seizes up, her fists clenching the bed sheets at her sides._

"_A-again," she half-begs, half-commands._

_Ulquiorra obliges. It doesn't take him long to find a tiny little nub of flesh, and he gathers it between his teeth—not all that unlike with what he did to her nipple—and gently flicks it with his tongue. This time Orihime's back actually rises up off of the bed as she cries out in a mixture of ecstasy and alarm._

_Ulquiorra halts in his administrations. The way her body contorts and contracts looks like it would be a little painful for a human._

_Suddenly Orihime bolts upright, grabbing a handful of Ulquiorra's shirt and pulling him against her. Her lips meet press against his fiercely before her tongue aggressively forces its way down her throat. If Ulquiorra were a mere human, he might have choked._

"_S-sorry," she pants into his mouth, before eventually loosening her hold on him and pulling away. "B-but you know…" she lowers her eyelashes somewhat. "I don't really think this is fair. I mean…" She smiles, appearing impish and bashful all at once. Her voice drops down to a stage whisper. "…You're wearing entirely too many layers still, don't you think?"_

_Ulquiorra flicks his gaze to where his very prominent arousal. It is causing the front of his pants to tent awkwardly in the front. _

"_I suppose I'm inclined to agree."_

_The yeastless response he offers, paired with the very obvious sign of his interest, startles a laugh out of Orihime. "Well, I'm relieved," she admits after a minute, still giggling. "I was starting to think you were getting bored."_

"_Evidently it's quite the opposite."_

_Orihime just shakes her head ruefully. "Kiss me, Ulquiorra," she commands. "And put a little _soul_ into it."_

--

"O-oh…" Orihime groans.

"Look, Menoly!" One of them cries out enthusiastically. "Piggy's gonna squeal!"

"_Please_." Orihime tries desperately to crawl away, but the blonde-haired one grabs her by the leg and drags her back to where they tower over her. "Please, stop!"

"Are you afraid?" The other one asks contemptuously. "Menoly's cero has a bad habit of firing randomly."

Orihime_ is_ scared – as scared as has ever been for her own safety. It's alarming to think that they might actually kill her.

"Please!" she begs, writhing uselessly on the floor where the taller girl pins her in place. "Please I—" The door creaks as it's opened for a second time in several minutes; the light that falls across her face is blaringly white that it causes her to go momentarily blind. "Ulquiorra?"

"Aw, isn't that sweet?" The more smaller of the two arrancar jeers. "She's calling out for her beloved!"

Orihime blinks rapidly for several seconds, trying desperately to regain her sight. When her eyes become accustomed to the obtrusive white light filtering in, however, she becomes fearful—not just for her safety, but for the safety of the others. Because the person standing silhouetted in the doorway isn't Ulquiorra.

It's Grimmjow.


	4. there's a fire inside

_Afterwards, Orihime will cry, and Ulquiorra will not be surprised in the slightest. He knows that humans – girls especially – waste a lot of sentimentality on things like virginity. Her tears are completely predictable, but the ferocity at which they come is a little off-putting to the Cuatro Espada. He's disturbed by the blubbering mess she's quickly becoming, her face red and splotchy as the salty tears come in a torrential flow._

_Ulquiorra merely stares at her mutely while she visibly breaks down in front of them. He can't help but contemplate the absurdity of the situation – Ulquiorra is still nude from the waist-up, and Orihime's shoulders are swollen and pink from the laving from his mouth. Everything about this scene is so ugly at the moment, and right as Orihime begins to whimper, he can hold his silence no longer._

"_Stop."_

_And his voice is so eloquent of disgust that she actually does, just like that. Orihime appears faintly surprised as she fixes him with a misty gaze._

"_Don't give me that look."_

_Her expression, already wavering, falters completely. She looks confused._

"_You have absolutely no reason to be acting like this," Ulquiorra tells her blandly. "You said yourself that you wanted this. I told you I'm not Kurosaki, and you told me that you didn't want me to be. But that's what this is about, isn't it? And yet I did not instigate this affair; you brought it fully upon yourself. So why invest so much useless energy in mourning when this is the relief that you wanted?"_

_Orihime looks horrified. Ulquiorra turns his head as fresh tears begin to well in her eyes; he cannot bear to look at her._

"_You're pathetic," he tells her. "This is the willful spirit that Aizen-sama praised so extensively? That even I foolishly regarded in high esteem? So fallible, so utterly grotesque. I was wrong; you're nothing but human trash."_

_Orihime swallows. Ulquiorra turns in time to see her use the edge of the bed sheet to wipe away the glittering tear-tracks that mar her features. She's lost some of that mottled pink color that Ulquiorra found so unattractive earlier, and is evidently on her way to fully regaining her composure._

"_You're right. I'm a mess, aren't I? I'm sorry."_

_Ulquiorra lifts one eyebrow, but says nothing._

"_I… I never knew you thought that way about me," she adds, a little uncertainly._

"_I am not trying to assuage your fragile ego, woman," Ulquiorra points out curtly. "Before, I merely found your spirit… commendable. Now, I'm not so sure."_

_For a while, neither of them say anything. Orihime is watching his face critically, very obviously trying to read in-between the lines. Ulquiorra doesn't know why she bothers: she's looking for a vapor of nuance that doesn't really exist. Ulquiorra has nothing to hide; there is no secret meaning behind his words. What is simply is._

"_Stop, Orihime," he says, shaking his head resolutely. "Don't think you can reach me. There's nothing to reach."_

_But she's smiling at him like she knows something he doesn't. "Kiss me again, Ulquiorra," she says, suddenly smoothing out the wrinkled blankets between them. "And I'll show that I'm not grieving anymore."_

_And Ulquiorra, against his better judgment, does exactly that._

_--_

"…And what exactly happened here?"

The two arrancar break apart from one another and flatten themselves against the wall directly across from Ulquiorra as he enters. Even in the dim light of the room, the Cuatro Espada can make out the horrified expressions on their face, the glossy sheen of sweat that mats their hair to their foreheads.

Loly and Menoly don't speak, don't dare trade looks – they remain frozen in their respective positions, staring resolutely ahead, at a place just above Ulquiorra's mask. Ulquiorra is no fool – he knows something happened here, and that these two idiots were involved.

"I believe," he says, before sonido carries him over to where Menoly stands, ram-rod straight. He's so close now that he can see very pore on her face, the little tick of her eyebrow when he breathes into her ear. "I asked you a question."

She startles like a spooked horse. "It was Grimmjow!" She blurts out suddenly, jumping as Loly gives her a worried look.

Ulquiorra takes a step back, takes in the twin horrified expressions.

"Oh?"

A likely perpetrator, if the state of the room was any indicator. Grimmjow always liked to make a big _mess_, after all.

"And am I to assume you had nothing to do with this?"

He watches the muscles in Menoly's throat work as she swallows. "N-no, of course n-not," she croaks, fidgeting uncomfortably beneath the scrutiny of his gaze.

Ulquiorra merely inclines his head, and immediately the other two occupants in the room know that he doesn't believe this for a second. Ulquiorra would like nothing more than to probe the matter further, perhaps a little more intravenously, but he has other things to attend to first, and a missing captive to retrieve.

"I see," he says, turning away from them. He can hear their sighs of relief, instinctively knows that Menoly has slumped against the wall behind her without having to turn around and actually _see_ it. "We will discuss the matters more fully when I return. But until then…"

He doesn't waste any more words on them. He's already gone.

--

_Things go much more smoothly after that, and Ulquiorra will soon become a regular nighttime visitor. In the end, Aizen-sama's captive seems to have rekindled some of Ulquiorra's more basic desires. He's not sure what he sees in her: she's weak and she's fragile and so wretchedly _human_, and yet Ulquiorra can't help but be drawn to her, at least in a very primitive sense. _

_Hollows, as a rule, cannot reproduce. And yet this woman sets the biological gears into motion to do exactly that. Why Ulquiorra finds himself putting so much effort in indulging something that achieves _nothing _baffles even him. There is no life being created: their copulating services no real _purpose_. And yet he can't help but keep indulging her every seductive whim – whims that are quickly becoming his own._

--

Ulquiorra warps behind Grimmjow just as Kurosaki gets weakly to his knees. His gaze flicks between the occupants of the room briefly, before at last settling on Grimmjow. Although his green optics remain locked with the Sexta Espada's own, his first words are for Orihime.

"Come here, woman."

Orihime hesitates. She glances back worriedly at Kurosaki, and Ulquiorra knows immediately that she's weighing her options. The orange-haired shinigami is in no condition to fight, they both know; Ulquiorra could easily cut him down again where he stands, if provoked. And although Ulquiorra has never divulged his rank within the Espada, the tattooed '4' on his chest makes it obvious enough. Clearly, Grimmjow is no match.

She lifts Nel from her shoulder, settling the tiny arrancar delicately on the floor beside her. Just as she begins to move forward, however, Grimmjow throws out his arm to halt her.

"She isn't going anywhere, Ulquiorra!"

"What are you doing, Grimmjow?" Ulquiorra asks evenly, completely nonplussed by his reaction. Grimmjow does not immediately answer, although he does not allow Orihime to leave his side, either. It doesn't really matter. Grimmjow doesn't have to explicitly state his intentions for them to be plainly obvious.

"What do you think you're doing, going out of your way to heal the injuries of an enemy that I defeated?"

He looks to Orihime standing beside Grimmjow. When their eyes meet, she immediately looks away and at the floor. The exhausted shinigami on the floor looks between the two uncertainly – he doesn't seem to know whether the question is directed at Grimmjow or Orihime.

"Not going to answer? Very well." Ulquiorra takes a step forward, and Orihime instinctively takes a step back. Grimmjow, however, stubbornly holds his stance.

"Regardless of what you're doing, that woman has been entrusted in my care by Aizen-sama," Ulquiorra says patiently. "So hand her over."

"Go fuck yourself."

Orihime bites her lip. Nel shrinks away, drawing closer to Ichigo on the floor.

"What did you say?"

Grimmjow laughs darkly. "What's up with you, anyway? You know, you're awfully chatty today… Ulquiorra!"

He throws out his fist, but Ulquiorra deflects it with a wrist. Grimmjow is already breathing heavy out of exhilaration. "I get it, Ulquiorra!" He cries jubilantly, as he wrenches his arm away. "You're afraid to fight me! Afraid that we'll crush one another!"

There is a blur of motion, and suddenly Ulquiorra is in the air. Just as he's about to launch a cero at his opponent, however, Grimmjow seizes Orihime by the wrist and throws her in front of him as a shield. "Go ahead, do it!"

Ulquiorra takes in Orihime's terrified expression and lifts his hand just in time – the cero blasts into pillars overhead, causing the pieces of the structure above them to explode and buckle from the force of it. Great pieces of the ceiling break off and fall away, and in the chaos that follows, Ulquiorra loses sight of Grimmjow entirely.

A hand comes out of the dust swirling around them, and Ulquiorra turns just in time for the Sexta Espada to slip a Negacion cube inside of his Hollow hole.


	5. the past: pretty little head of your's

One night Ulquiorra finds himself studying Orihime as she sleeps. The Cuatro Espada isn't usually one to linger in the aftermath of their copulation; but tonight fatigue had overcome the woman so suddenly that he hadn't had time to extract himself from her embrace before Orihime was fast asleep, head pushed deep into his armpit. He had decided not to immediately abandon her in fear of waking her up in the process. If Orihime was awake when he tried to steal away into the night, there would undoubtedly be a fuss. She always made goodbye's between them unnecessarily strained.

The contrast of his skin against her's interests Ulquiorra. Orihime's own is still rosy and slightly flushed from this evening's earlier activities; Ulquiorra's remains pale and unblemished, per always. _She fits so easily in the crook of my arm_, Ulquiorra thinks, looking down upon her ginger head. _Almost like she belongs there. _The notion is not as unnerving to him as it was before, when he first thought it, many weeks before.

The nuances of the human body, Ulquiorra decides, are endlessly fascinating. Aside from the bone-helmet, Ulquiorra and Orihime are not all that different in terms of outward appearance. Ulquiorra is a seemingly slight, unspectacular man from first glance – but Orihime knows by now that looks can be deceiving. Ulquiorra is frighteningly strong; indeed, she has felt that power, struggling in-between her legs.

Ulquiorra's hierro skin is like marble, cold and unyielding; Orihime's is flimsy and easily torn. Ulquiorra is not an individual who very easily gets carried away; even when holding back, he can't help but leave bruises, from her throat to the inside of her thighs. The human body is so brittle, so laughably weak – it takes a conscious effort on Ulquiorra's part to keep from utterly ruining her pathetic form.

Like now. Orihime seems to be dreaming; he watches as her toes curl, watches as a smile tugs at the edge of her lips, sees those irises flickering back and forth from underneath those fragile eyelids. Ulquiorra wonders just what she's imagining, if he's somehow involved. And if he visits her in dreams, what happens? Does she invite him into her bed, as she does now, undresses him and pulls him against flush against the mounds of her chest? Does she encourage to go further south, to drink the musky nectar of her center? Or are her dreams more banal? More abstract? He wishes he could peek into the dark recesses of her mind, pluck out the imagery that's swirling inside.

_Do you think of me, woman?_

Human bodies are weak like human spirits. His captive is such a fickle girl. Ulquiorra very quietly, very discreetly disengages himself from her, rolling her gently on her back. He could leave now, but something about the vulnerable state of her causes him to linger. Now hovering on his hands and knees above her, Ulquiorra studies her more critically. Something about watching her like this is more intimate than sex; Orihime looks so peaceful here, so unguarded, in a way that she never can quite be with him, even when she's lost in the immediate gratification of their union. She looks so _happy_.

Ulquiorra shifts so that the majority of his weight is on his back calves as he sits there, half-straddling Orihime's form. _It's dangerous to be such a deep sleeper,_ Ulquiorra thinks to himself, right before he encircles his fingers around her throat. His touch is light, feathery; not firm enough to stifle her breathing as of yet, and certainly not firm enough to startle her into awaking. Orihime continues to plod dumbly on and dream, lost in the otherworld.

_I could kill you right now_, Ulquiorra thinks, but doesn't.

He watches her for quite some time longer; watches the deep, even breathing of someone who remains blissfully unaware. Ulquiorra marvels at the fact; it some ways, he's almost envious of her ability to lose herself so completely. Ulquiorra doesn't _need_ sleep in order to function, and he certainly does not dream.

But, watching her lost in the delirium, Ulquiorra reconsiders his stance on the matter. He has never really played with the idea of sleeping for enjoyment – had never afforded himself such luxuries, has never deemed such behavior prudent. But now, for the first time ever, the Cuatro Espada thinks that this is something he would very much like to try.

He gently loosens his hold on her windpipe, swinging one leg off of her, as stealthily as he can manage. Ulquiorra lays flat on his back beside her – he does not draw her close, does not envelope himself in her warmth the way that surely she would. He is not an affectionate creature. He is not bound by attachments, petty emotions. So he lays prone, close-but-not-touching, their shoulders at even height.

He closes his eyes. His breathing, already deep and even, does not to be purposely regulated. He tries to will himself to oblivion, but it takes a while. Ulquiorra is patient, however.

(And in the end, he was mistaken. Arrancar _do_ dream; they dream of fire and destruction and swirling chaos.)


	6. the past 2: the chosen pessimist

Sometimes Aizen calls Orihime in for tea. When he does, Ulquiorra will lead her down the seemingly endless hallways, lined on either side with walls made of infinite white. It is during these moments that Ulquiorra is at his coldest; face as impassive as ever, walking two steps in front of her. His eyes never drift from the path ahead of him, never afraid that Orihime might use this opportunity to flee. Her budding feelings for him are a weakness, and perhaps he knows this, and uses it to his advantage – regardless, Orihime follows in the wake of his long, imposing shadow, as obediently and as docilely as a puppy.

--

One day, Aizen shows her the Breakdown Sphere.

"No, Ulquiorra, please stay." Ulquiorra pauses in the doorway, where he was just about to make his exit before having been interrupted. The Espada slowly pivots on one heel, and although there isn't a discernable register of surprise of surprise, Orihime instinctively knows that it's there, albeit hidden. He has never been permitted to stay during such an intimate meeting.

"I have something I want to show the two of you." Aizen waves him genially over, and Ulquiorra obeys. As he draws nearer, the former shinigami captain indicates the available space beside Orihime with a sweep of his hand. In the background, Gin's smile, already large, grows even larger.

Now Ulquiorra is so close that Orihime can feel his breath in her hair. She feels profoundly uncomfortable, so close to Ulquiorra in plain sight of two spectators. Their relationship—if you could call it that—has never been an open one, and although neither of them are doing anything wrong right now, it _feels_ wrong.

But then Aizen reveals to her the secret place of the hougyoku, and everything else is pushed out of the forefront of her mind.

"Consider this a demonstration of my trust in you, Orihime," Aizen says gently, smiling at her. Orihime tries to smile back, but it's weak and unconvincing. She swallows and wrings her hands anxiously before her, wishing she could disappear into the ground if only to escape the intense scrutiny of his face.

"Forgive me, Aizen-sama, but I've seen this before," Ulquiorra speaks suddenly. His voice is loud in Orihime's ear, and the ginger-haired girl, having forgotten entirely that he's there, startles so badly that Gin erupts in uproarious laughter. Aizen merely graces Ulquiorra with a tolerant smile.

"I know. But its hiding place has moved since I've last demonstrated its power to you all, has it not?"

"Yes, Aizen-sama," Ulquiorra agrees, and there's a faint trace of confusion in his voice as he considers this information.

"Ulquiorra, you're overthinking things," Aizen says fondly, cutting a physical line between them as he comes forward to take Orihime's place beside him. He clasps one large hand on the slender arrancar's shoulder. "It's no secret that you're my favorite, Number Four. Like Orihime, showing you the hougyoku's new whereabouts is a testament of my great faith in your loyalty." He smiles, an expression that Ulquiorra does not mimic. "You two are the only ones who know where it is, other than Gin, Tousen, and I."

Ulquiorra merely nods in response. With his attention focused elsewhere, Orihime trains her own on the object before her. She's watching it critically, committing every facet to memory.

_I know what I have to do now,_ she thinks grimly, trying vainly to retain the image of the room._ I've got to reject the existence of the hougyoku._

--

After they're dismissed, they begin the long journey back to Orihime's quarters.

"He knows," Ulquiorra tells her abruptly, and Orihime's eyes widen momentarily in horror. She thinks Ulquiorra is referring to Orihime's intent, and Aizen's discovery of such. It takes her several seconds to realize that Ulquiorra is referring to their relationship.

"How would he know?" Orihime asks, no less fearful. "He hasn't been… _spying _on us, has he?"

Ulquiorra actually snorts. It is so unexpected that Orihime actually stops in her tracks, staring at his retreating back in shock. Then she hurries to catch up to him.

"He doesn't need to watch us in order to understand what has transpired. The scent of my reiatsu is all over you. And your own feeble spiritual energy must surely taint mine."

Orihime frowns, but otherwise lets the condescending remark go. "I think you're paranoid," she says at last, but it's a hopeful thought more than anything else.

"Are you telling me that you were blind to the fact of how close he situated us?" Ulquiorra says in that usual bland, toneless voice of his. "Do not insult my perceptive abilities. He knows, woman."


	7. the past 3: life in mono

And yet, despite Ulquiorra's dire warnings ("he knows, woman") this does little to deter him from coming to Orihime in the night. She isn't exactly sure what causes him to so brazenly risk detection, but she has a few ideas. Perhaps he does it merely to keep an eye out on her, or maybe he does it out of habit. But the one she plays with the most – the concept that is the most shocking, and yet the most personally gratifying – is that their ritualized rendezvous have somehow gained significance to him, and he does it because he _wants_ to.

The more she thinks about it, the more that she becomes sure.

(Or maybe she has it half-right; there is some latent curiosity there, borne out the frenzied joining of their bodies. But Orihime is something of a romantic, and she largely glosses over the sex part. To her, they have long since transcended the point of mere personal gratification.)

Because if Orihime is allowed to be honest, she likes Ulquiorra. She likes him a whole lot. She wouldn't go as far as to call it love (_Kurosaki-kun_) but there's definitely affection there, fondness. She looks into those cool planes of his face, and she doesn't see masked irritation or casual indifference, but the look of tolerant understanding, something akin to warmth. She's spent enough time in Ulquiorra's company to know that the dynamic between them has been irrevocably _altered_, although it may not plainly evident to others.

Tonight, after their physical whims have been sated, Orihime pleads with Ulquiorra to stay with her in bed for a while. It is not unusual for him to linger, in these past few weeks, but he's always quick to remove any physical link between them. But now Orihime lies in the crook of Ulquiorra's arm, her own arms wound tightly around his waist, as though her pitiful strength were enough to keep him prone. Ulquiorra lies as stiff and as awkwardly as a board. He stares blankly at the ceiling.

"You're like a cat, you know?" Orihime whispers fondly, and she wonders if her hot breath tickles the cool shell of his ear. "You only tolerate these kinds of things for so long."

Ulquiorra blinks. He obviously has no experience with cats to draw the analogy from.

"Nevermind." She laughs, and it comes out huskier than she intended. Orihime's hold reluctantly slackens as he sits up, rumpled sheets pooling around his waist.

"Are you trying to seduce me again, woman?" He asks.

This startles another laugh out of Orihime. "No, why?"

Ulquiorra simply _looks _at her, as though he doesn't quite believe her. Orihime takes a moment to admire the lean, pale physique of her companion before returning her attention to his face. "That doesn't quite help my case, does it?" She grins as she notes the hint of skepticism there. "Leering at you, I mean." Her tone becomes gentler. "No, Ulquiorra, I'm simply enjoying your company." She reaches forward to pat him on the thigh, but her hand feels the bulge or something very different instead.

"Oh. _Oh_." Finally she gets it. Ulquiorra actually averts his gaze; this is the closest to embarrassed that he will ever be. Almost sympathetically, Orihime pulls back the covers, exposing the rest of his lovely white form. She eases his thighs apart and settles between them.

"What are you doing, woman?" Ulquiorra asks, almost warily.

"Just because I wasn't trying to seduce you doesn't mean I'm not willing," Orihime says simply, smiling up impishly at him before taking Ulquiorra into her mouth.

--

"Ulquiorra." Orihime's voice pierces the dark quiet room some time later, after their breathing has returned to normal.

Ulquiorra doesn't answer, but Orihime knows that he's listening. "What's going to happen to me?"

Ulquiorra does not stir from his spot beside her. He does not stiffen, nor grimace, but the shadows around his face seem to have altered, almost as though to brace himself for what's surely coming next. Orihime, previously lying on her back, rolls onto her side; she takes those delicate hands of her, used for healing, and absently ghosts her fingers along his clavicle, just above where his hollow hole is.

"You said yourself that Aizen knows. Do you think he'll try to separate us?"

Ulquiorra's eyes remain fixedly on the ceiling above him. For a moment, Orihime thinks that he's simply decided against answering. It wouldn't be the first time: Ulquiorra is choosy like that.

"Do you think he might put me under the care of someone like Grimmjow or Nnoitra?"

"No." Ulquiorra says, so abruptly that Orihime stares. And then: "I would imagine that our" – there is the barest of pauses here – "arrangement would amuse Aizen-same greatly, if anything. It is highly unlikely that he would interfere."

"But if he did?" Orihime insists.

Ulquiorra closes his eyes. "Our being together is presumably beneficial to Aizen-sama's plans. Most likely he is under the impression that your foolish human sentimentalities would further assure your loyalty to him."

Orihime is a little taken aback by Ulquiorra's answer. She's used to him being more cryptic than that.

"That's a little presumptuous, isn't it?" She asks, and suddenly there is the sound of sheets being pushed aside as Ulquiorra sits straight up.

"Am I wrong?" He asks, and his eyes catch hers before she can look away.

"N-no."

"As I said before," Ulquiorra said crisply, simply. "Aizen-sama is no fool. And you are remarkably easy to read."


End file.
